


Shark's Eye

by JazzSquare24



Category: Carry On Series - Rainbow Rowell
Genre: Adventure, Alternate Universe, Enemies to Lovers, Falling In Love, I made up the magical elements, M/M, Mermaid!Baz, Mutual Pining, POV Simon Snow, POV Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch, Pirate AU, Romance, Some Magical Elements, Tenderness, loosely inspired by every mermaid story ever, mermaid au, pirate!simon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-10
Updated: 2020-04-13
Packaged: 2021-03-01 19:53:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,515
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23582665
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JazzSquare24/pseuds/JazzSquare24
Summary: Simon Snow is a pirate on a mission, in search of something a bit more unique than the average buried treasure. Baz is a merman he meets by chance, and the only one who can help him. But Baz knows better than to help a pirate — relationships between merfolk and humans never end well. Despite having everything to lose, he can’t seem to resist blue eyes and bronze curls.
Relationships: Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch/Simon Snow
Comments: 31
Kudos: 118





	1. Part I

**Author's Note:**

> I had a lot of fun writing this - I hope you have some fun reading!

**SIMON**

I’m shipwrecked already, and I’ve barely made any progress on this mission.

I groan in frustration as another wave knocks into my boat and floods it further. The wooden hull scrapes against the rocks, and it makes me cringe. I wipe ocean spray from my eyes; my shirt and trousers are completely soaked.

When the Captain chose me specifically for this mission, I was more than a little shocked. It’s a great honor among the crew to be selected by the Captain to do anything, really. The Watford has nearly 300 crew members, and I’m the newest, possibly the youngest. I’ve gotten the hang of this whole pirate thing over the years, but this is the first time the Captain has selected me to do anything for him.

Another wave crashes over me and threatens to tip me out of the boat. It creaks and groans against the rocks, and I steel myself with the oars. Despite being selected by the Captain, I was not given an abundance of supplies — just one of the ship’s many beaten up rowboats. It’s not particularly pretty, but it’s reliable enough. Except there’s no way it can stand up to these waves and the jagged rocks hidden beneath the surface — I’m afraid anymore force will splinter it right down the middle, and then I’ll _really_ be fucked.

I cannot afford any setbacks on this mission. I can’t go back to the ship empty-handed—it’s just not something that happens under the Captain’s orders.

In any other instance, I might consider abandoning the rowboat. But the Captain told me he needs a shark’s eye. A shark’s _eye_ , of all things. And I definitely need a boat in order to find a shark, so I can’t risk damaging this one too much, considering it’s the only one I’ve got.

The Captain didn’t really elaborate on that order — most orders are usually brief and clipped, and we’re meant to figure out the rest. That’s the mark of a good pirate, anyway. Following orders. Getting the job done, whatever it takes.

But the thought of hunting down a shark and cutting out its eye sort of makes my stomach churn. There are grislier things, I suppose . . . but I’ve never even seen a shark up close before — how in the bloody hell am I supposed to get one’s eye?

I try not to think about that too much. For now, I’m still getting beaten up by the sea. 

Seagulls screech nearby, breaking me out of my thoughts. I glance over at the noise, taking in my surroundings. Rocks rise from the water in jagged formations, creating a shelf several miles from the shore. Large, ominous storm clouds inch over the sea, creeping closer to the shore. A flock of birds congregate around a rock only a few yards away from me. They’re hovering over something. They keep taking off and pecking at each other in the air.

I stand up in the middle of the boat, trying to keep my balance as I crane my neck to get a glimpse of what the birds are so interested in. Must have found a dead thing, or food of some sort.

Then, it happens so quickly it could’ve been a trick of the light: a massive, gray fishtail waves in the air before splashing in the water off the side of the rock.

I freeze, and the seagulls screech louder, taking off into the air. So they saw the tail too . . . I’ve seen a lot of things out on the ocean, but I’ve never seen a tail like that before. 

A better pirate might ignore it and focus on the mission at hand. My priority ought to be figuring out the rowboat situation. But what if that tail belongs to a shark? Could it really be that easy?

I decide it’s a risk worth taking. I carefully climb across the rocks, moving slowly so as to not cut my bare feet against the sharp edges. The waves continue their efforts to take me down. I cling to the side of the rock and scale it carefully, then peer over the side.

My breath catches in my throat as my brain registers it all at once: _mermaid._

From the waist up, he looks like a human man. His chest is bare, and his hair is rather long, nearly to his shoulders. But instead of legs he has a long, gray tail that flips and splashes violently. I realize with a jolt that he’s tangled in fishing wire, so fine it’s nearly invisible. It’s wrapped tightly around his tail and hands. He bumps and growls as he wrangles it, his face twisted in pain. The wire extends in a tangled mess around a crevice of rock, tight enough to tug and fasten him here. 

Before I can move, he catches me. His eyes widen — deep grey, human eyes — and for a split second he looks terribly afraid. But then he bares his sharp-looking teeth and growls at me, a low, animal sound. 

I flinch, but don’t back down. “Don’t worry,” I say in the calmest voice I can manage. “I just want to help.”

I clamber over the rock and crouch beside him, but it’s difficult to keep my balance with the waves threatening to knock me over and the merman swatting at me with his tail. I try to keep the pocket knife in my hand discreet as I hook a finger around the wire and cut.

It’s tighter than it appears. There are deep, red grooves in his scales and skin where the line bit him. 

I work as quickly as I can, then duck out of the way just in time as he leaps off the rock and disappears into the water, finally free.

I sit there for a long minute, trying to catch another glimpse of him, trying to confirm that what I just saw was real. I’ve heard stories about mermaids, of course, but to see one in real life . . . 

No one on Watford will ever believe me if I told them.

I tuck my pocket knife away and clamber back to my rowboat. It’s still stuck as ever, and starting to get waterlogged. I sigh heavily and glance at the sky. The storm clouds have eaten up the blue sky, and I can smell rain in the air. 

“That’s a sad-looking excuse for a boat,” says a voice from behind me.

I whirl around, and nearly slip off the rock. The bloody merman is here, talking to me!

He stares at me with one dark eyebrow quirked up, as if he’s amused or unimpressed by me. Difficult to tell. I can see his face fully now — he looks different when he’s not snarling at me.

Actually, like this, he looks like a human boy. He’s got pale skin and black hair, slicked back to expose his sharp features. His lips are full, almost pouty, until he curls the top one back into a smirk.

“I hope you weren’t planning on using that,” he continues, his voice deep and slightly haughty. “It looks thoroughly useless.”

I blink a couple times, and shake my head. I never thought I’d make conversation with a merperson, let alone have one insult my boat.

The merperson in question rolls his eyes, then swims closer. I try not to jump at the sight of his tail swishing behind him. I can just make out the glow of scales beneath the surface. 

“Well, if you _are_ planning on using it, I imagine you’ll need some help with that.”

Somehow I find my voice. “Help? You mean you can get it unstuck?”

He curls his lip in what might be a smile but mostly looks like a sneer. “I can,” he drawls. “Consider this me returning the favor.”

With that, he disappears underwater. 

I wait, my eyes wide, for something to happen. At first, I don’t notice anything, and I wonder if he was joking about helping me. But then, I see it: the water level rises under the boat, high enough to lift it from where it was stuck so that it’s floating again. Then, just as quickly as it happened, the tide goes out, and leaves the boat bobbing on the surface like nothing happened at all.

I woop with delight and crawl into the boat, grabbing the oars. Two iridescent fins slap the water a few feet away.

“Thanks!” I shout.

The merman raises a hand and waves once, then disappears with a grand flourish of his tail.

“Hey — wait!” 

I row over to the spot he vanished from, and thankfully, he reappears.

“Are you satisfied with your service?” he asks with a smirk. “Unfortunately I can’t do much to fix the state of the boat itself.”

“No, no — thank you,” I say again. “You didn’t have to help me —”

“Yes I did. You cut me free, so I saved your boat,” he replies.

“But — you could’ve drowned me instead, or something.”

He quirks that brow again and tilts his head. “And you could’ve caught me and sold me for fish parts,” he counters.

I wrinkle my nose at the thought of fish parts. There’s no denying the reward for catching a merperson would be unbelievable. The Captain would likely promote me — hell, I could be the captain of my own ship if I wanted. 

A greedier, smarter pirate might do it. And maybe I’m daft for not. But I don’t really care about titles or power, or even having my own ship. I’m more interested in adventures, exploring the ocean. There’s so much of it, and I’ve only seen a portion.

Capturing a merman is not the mission. Retrieving a shark’s eye is.

The merman is staring at me, his eyes as gray as the clouds above us. 

“Hey,” I say. “Since we’ve established that neither of us is trying to kill the other, d’you mind helping me out with something else?”

The merman groans and rolls his eyes. “I was afraid of this. No, I don’t have the power to bring your true love back to life, if that’s what you’re asking.”

I laugh. “No, not that. I’m looking for . . . something. Really important. But I doubt I’ll be able to find it near the surface.” 

The merman’s eyes narrow as he gives me a once-over. “You’re some sort of pirate, aren’t you?” he says after a minute.

“Er, I guess you could say that . . . I’m Simon Snow.” I grin and salute. “Pleasure.”

The merman blinks a couple times. He must be thoroughly unimpressed.

“Baz,” he replies finally. “So. You’re a pirate. And you’re searching for . . . buried treasure? Gold doubloons?”

“Not this time ‘round. But if you’ve got any idea where some might be, I’m all ears.”

“Pirates are never looking for anything unless there’s something in it for them. What’s in it for you?”

“The satisfaction of a job well done?”

Baz’s eyes narrow again, and he sets his mouth in a straight line.

“Fine, fine.” I push my curls off my forehead. “I’ve never been chosen for a mission before. I’ve got everything to prove. And fucking up is not an option.”

He doesn’t look convinced. “And what’s in it for me if I help you?”

I shrug. “I won’t breathe a word about you to anyone and you’ll never see me again?”

He flashes me a menacing grin. It transforms his face; he doesn’t look quite as human as he did moments before. I swear his teeth are pointed now, like shark teeth or fangs.

“You won’t, and that’s a guarantee. Because if you did, I’d have to drown you.” 

I gulp. “Understood.”

Baz fixes me with a skeptical stare. Then his face changes as he sighs. He looks like a normal boy again, human teeth and all. “I might thoroughly regret asking this,” he says, “but what is it you’re looking for?”

Now it’s my turn to grin. “You know a thing or two about sharks, right?”

“You assume this because . . . ?”

“Because you’re a merperson, of course.”

“Oh, _of course_ , and that makes me an expert on all things marine life.”

“Well, doesn’t it?”

“No.”

I huff. “Well, if one were looking for a shark, how would you suggest tracking it down?”

Baz frowns. “I don’t know. I’ve never tried to find one before.” 

“They’re nocturnal, aren’t they? I wonder if — ”

A crack of thunder makes me jump, and I glance up at the sky. The storm is on us, swallowing the sea and the sky. The waves have turned choppy, and a strong gust of wind ruffles my hair and blows right through my thin shirt, sending a chill down my spine.

“You certainly won’t find any sharks in this,” Baz remarks.

Lightning flashes just as rain patters down onto my cheeks. There’s no way I’ll make it back to the ship in this weather. 

I turn to Baz only to find he’s gone.

“Fuck,” I mutter, grabbing an oar in each hand. I’m going to have to row for it. I’ll be lucky if I even stay on course towards land. I very well might — 

“Hey! Pirate!” A voice shouts.

I look back. There’s Baz, waving to me.

“This way!” he calls.

I don’t hesitate. I could be on my way to my doom, following a merperson in unknown waters, but if it means getting out of this storm for now, it’s fine with me. Besides, I’ve managed to get out of more than one compromising situation before. I’ll be better off doing it again in dry clothes.

I row as hard as I can, following the flick of Baz’s tail as he guides me. It’s hard to see in the rain, but Baz’s tail glows like silver, cutting through the black water like a beam of light. 

We glide into the mouth of a cave hidden in one of the seaside cliffs. I look up, and my jaw drops in amazement.

It’s hard to believe this is a cave — stalagmites drip from the ceiling, beads of water shimmering from them almost like stars in the sky. The water in here is calm; light green and crystal clear. You’d never guess there was a storm raging outside. I can even see tiny fish swimming across the white sand, completely unbothered.

I drift until the boat bumps against the edge of the rocky ledge that circles the cave. I clamber out, appreciating the feeling of solid ground beneath my feet. Baz swims over and drapes his arms on the opposite side of the ledge. I notice a pattern of silver scales beaded across his forearms and shoulders. 

“This place is brilliant,” I tell him. “The blokes on the ship could only dream of finding a place like this.”

Baz scoffs. “But it won’t stop them from trying to find it, I’m sure. Humans are nosey to say the least. Which is exactly the reason I don’t plan on staying long.”

I take a seat and let my feet dip into the water. I don’t bother rolling up my trousers; they don’t quite reach my ankles anyway. “You must move around a lot,” I say. 

His eyes are trained on my feet for a moment, and I can’t help but wonder with some weird sort of pride if I’m the first human he’s ever seen. 

“The ocean never stops moving, so neither do I,” he says. “It’s too risky to stay in one place for too long.”

I lean over and glance at several tiny fish swimming near my feet. I dip my hand into the water and wait. Sure enough, they swarm over, curiously nipping my fingertips. I laugh.

I look up and see a hint of a smile on Baz’s face. He purses his lips and looks away when he catches me. 

“Thanks for bringing me here,” I say. “This definitely beats drowning in a rowboat.”

He smooths his hair back. “I’m a bit surprised you followed.”

“Why?”

“Seems a little risky for a pirate to trust a merperson, no?”

I shrug. “Everything about being a pirate is a risk. And I thought we clarified before, you’re not going to drown me . . . right?”

Baz’s eyes gleam as he pushes off the rock. “If I wanted to, I certainly would have done so by now.”

He swims over to a sloped rock on the other side of the cave and hauls himself onto it. His tail is so long the fins remain in the water. His back muscles ripple as he folds his arms and rests his cheek on his hands.

“Goodnight, then, pirate,” he says.

I lie on my back and drum my fingers on my stomach, watching the reflections of light play off the water and onto the ceiling.

“Goodnight.”


	2. Part II

**BAZ**

When I open my eyes, the pirate is gone.

I sit up and glance around. Simon Snow is nowhere to be seen, but that sad excuse for a boat is still here, peacefully bobbing up and down. Which means yesterday wasn’t just a bizarre dream.

There’s no excuse for it, then. I willingly led a pirate to safety, and promised to help him, all because he had a pretty face. 

I slink into the water and take a deep breath as I hydrate. It’s so much easier to think in the water. 

It wasn’t _just_ because he had a pretty face. He helped me when I needed it, and didn’t ask for anything in return. I cringe at the memory of yesterday’s mortifying situation. I should’ve drowned him on the spot for even getting a sight of me in such a state.

Fucking fishermen and their fishing wire.

I curl and stretch my tail. For some reason, my mind drifts back to the sight of Snow’s human feet, his toes in the water, the stretch of leg where his clothes didn’t quite cover. I hope he didn’t notice my staring— 

I groan as I realize the direction of my thoughts. When did I become such a stereotype? It’s disgraceful.

I know I can hardly blame myself for my romantic nature. It’s just the way merfolk are. I never believed it before. I never understood the mutual fascination between merfolk and humans. Except, after seeing one up close, I sort of do now. 

This might very well be the literal death of me.

The fascination baffles me because merfolk know the risk: exposing yourself to a human means you’re likely to get caught. Getting caught means being forced to grant a wish — forced to give up our magic. You only get one wish — losing it means you die.

Which is incredibly melodramatic. Another merfolk trait.

I shouldn’t go looking for Snow. I should leave this cave right now and never come back. That way he’ll never be able to find me. And it will lower the chances of his pirate friends trying to track me down.

I must be more disturbed than I thought, though, because all I can think about is his smile, that ridiculous hair and his ridiculous human clothes depriving me of a view of his body. And he’s such an idiot, he clearly doesn’t know about merfolk wishes. And if he’s really on a mission from his pirate captain, he’ll never be able to find what he’s looking for. He doesn’t even _understand_ what he’s looking for. 

I swim to the surface at the entrance of the cave, smoothing my hair down my neck. The sky is a bright, clear blue with little white clouds drifting along.

I shouldn’t do this. I’ve been lucky so far in my life that I’ve never come in contact with a human. I’ve never been at the risk of being captured. Of having my magic stolen from me. A smarter merperson would swim in the opposite direction . . .

. . . I am a disappointment to myself. And yet I can’t help but feel any other one of my species would do the same.

I swim towards the shore, along the cliff. I hear him before I see him. His disgruntled noises of exasperation lead me right to him. He’s found a sandbar, standing in water up to his knees, and he slashes his hands into the waves.

“You’ll never catch a fish like that,” I remark.

Snow looks up at me and grins. His curly bronze hair falls over his forehead. 

“Hiya, Baz,” he says. “How’d you know that’s what I’m trying to do?”

“It’s what all humans do, isn’t it?” 

“I see your point. But a bloke’s got to eat, right?” His attention darts away from me as he punches his hand into the water again, only to come up empty.

I curl my lip. “On second thought, if you’re trying to attract a shark, this might be the way to do it.”

“You think so?”

“Sure. Weak prey give themselves away by splashing and causing a scene.”

“Ha. Ha.”

He’s not wearing his shirt this time — giving me a full view of his arms and chest. He has tawny, sun-kissed skin. I lean against one of the rocks and tuck my chin in my hands, trying to school my features into a bored-looking expression.

“Making any progress?” I ask after watching him splash around for a few more minutes.

He huffs and swipes the hair out of his eyes. It’s a ridiculous display. It makes my heart race.

“Just you wait and see, Baz. You’ll be eating your words, and I’ll be eating a fish.”

I chuckle. He goes very still, his eyes narrowed in concentration, the tip of his tongue poking out between his lips. I’ve never seen a creature as expressive as him. I knew humans to be annoying and daft, but I didn’t know they could be so interesting. 

His hand cuts through the air and into the water, and he crows with excitement and raises a wriggling fish into the air.

“AHA!” he exclaims. “Got it!”

I smirk. “Alright, Snow, looks like you’ve done it.”

The fish squirms between his fingers and launches itself through the air. Its fins make contact with Snow’s face before it flops to the ground and back into the sea. I cackle at the sight of Snow’s bewildered look so hard that my stomach hurts.

He wipes his face and glares at me. “Alright, alright, you’ve had your laugh,” he mutters.

“Thank you for that,” I wheeze. “I’ve never seen a hunting display quite like that one. You’re a natural predator. The sharks don’t stand a chance.”

He flicks water at me. “Shut up,” he mutters. “I can’t think straight — I’m starving.” He goes back to the cave for his boat and starts to row to shore. I follow along at a leisurely pace. 

I shouldn’t be following him. I tell myself it’s because I can’t risk letting him out of my sight, in case he comes back with more pirates to capture me. Although, I’m starting to believe he would do something like that less and less. He seems far too good-natured. He can’t even catch a fish.

Regardless, I can’t just leave him alone. What if this is all some sort of elaborate plot?

Snow hops out of the boat as it crests through the sand, coming to a firm stop. I glide around in the shallows, trying not to feel too disappointed as he pulls his shirt on.

“I’m going to find some real food,” he says as he tucks the oars inside the boat. “Will you watch this for me?”

“Don’t worry, I don’t think it’s at any risk of being stolen.”

He rolls his eyes and turns around. “I’ll be back in a minute!” He calls over his shoulder. I watch him hike through the sand, up the dunes, and out of my sight.

For a pirate, Simon Snow is alarmingly trusting. I’m more than a little thrown by the fact that he’s even stuck around this long, considering what I am, and what he is. And even though all of my instincts scream at me to take off now, that this is the perfect time to leave and forget this ever happened, to protect myself and my heart, I don’t want to.

It’s stupid — and dangerous — to let myself even think along these lines. I shouldn’t want it. Merfolk and human love stories rarely end well. The consequence of being captured is dying. 

But I’ve never been kissed before. And I can’t help but wonder what it might be like to kiss a human. To kiss Simon Snow. 

Maybe he never has to find out about my magic. Maybe I can steal him away to live with me in some marine cave, or find a way to sneak him off the pirate ship, and we’ll — 

I shake my head and watch that stupid boat bob up and down in the waves.

Just when I’m starting to get bored, Snow reappears, his arms full and his legs practically flying beneath him. He almost trips several times as he races down the cliff and across the sand, kicking it up as he goes.

“Go!” he shouts at me, looking frantic. “Baz, go!”

I don’t need to ask why. A surprisingly large crowd follows him down the cliff, men shouting and racing after him as he bolts toward the boat.

I let a wave crash over me and disappear beneath it. I can hear the sound of the rowboat’s oars chopping through the water. Snow must be struggling to get his boat moving in the opposite direction of the current.

More splashing - no doubt feet pounding into the surf. Whatever they’re chasing Snow for, clearly the ocean will not stop them. 

Something tugs on my tailfins and drags me backwards. For a brief moment, my mind darts to the worst place - that this really was all an elaborate plot on Snow’s part to trap me. But just as quickly as it’s there, it’s gone again, and instead I can hear Snow shouting and paddling for his life.

I feel the strength of the current in my body and persuade it to lighten up a bit. A wave swells beneath Snow’s boat, lifting it up and away, closer to the sea. As soon as he’s cleared, the waves strengthen, rising and breaking with enough power to force the other humans back to the shore.

I swim beneath the surface, following the tread of Snow’s boat as he rows. The water has settled; his strokes are sturdier. I can’t hear the sound of humans anymore. Just the echo of water around me, and Snow’s oars hitting the water.

I surface, and when he sees me, he laughs.

“Nearly had us there, didn’t they?”

I smooth my hair back. “Glad you enjoyed yourself.”

Snow shrugs. “All in a day’s work really.” He grins at me, all mischief, and it makes my heart do a funny tick. “Want to see what all the fuss was about?”

He holds up countless items, presumably stolen, all sloppily thrown inside a fishing net. “Got some oranges here, rope, towels, a lighter . . .”

My eyes catch sight of the gleaming edge of a knife. I hook my elbows over the side of the boat and lean in. It sways a little, but Snow doesn’t say anything. 

I slide one finger down the handle. “And what’s this?”

Snow blinks, his lips parted. “Er . . . a knife?”

I roll my eyes.

“All right, all right . . . it’s for my mission.”

I drop back into the water with a little more force than necessary. The boat tips, sending Snow lurching forward, then back. 

“So this is a violent mission,” I say coldly.

He rights himself. “No! I mean, yes, I suppose, but . . . but it’s not _really_ that violent, I just —” He huffs and swipes his fingers through his hair. “Look, I’ve got a job to do, and this is what I need to do it.”

I sink in the water until the surface covers my nose. I feel like a fool. A fool because not only did I think I could trust a pirate — a _human_ — I’m actually feeling a bit betrayed as well. Simon Snow seemed . . . 

“You’re trying to murder some shark for no reason,” I accuse. “Who’s to say you’ll stop there? How convenient that you’ve also stumbled upon a merperson at the same time —”

“It’s not like that!”

I just glare at him, using my most menacing look. I’m not above catering to the stereotypical version of a merperson in every sailor’s nightmares.

I should be swimming for my life. He’s got a knife in the boat — he practically confessed he’s out hunting sharks. Which means I’ve got everything to lose if I stay here a moment longer. 

Simon Snow fixes me with a blue-eyed stare, then sighs heavily and sits back.

“All right. Yes, I’m looking for a shark. But it’s not because I want to kill it for the sake of killing it. I just need . . . its eye.”

I frown.

“And I’m only doing it because it’s really important. The Captain wouldn’t ask for it otherwise. Any shark will do, maybe even an already-dead one, no one specified —”

“Your mission — from your captain, or whatever — is to find a shark’s eye?”

Snow nods.

“And what does he need it for?”

“Something incredibly important, I’m sure.”

“But you don’t actually _know_?”

He huffs and shrugs. “Listen, a good pirate doesn’t go around asking loads of bloody questions to the Captain, especially not when he’s chosen you for a mission. He gave me all the information he thought I’d need.”

I can’t help but laugh. “Right, and he also gave you this _boat_ and that _knife_.”

Snow scowls at me. “Despite what you might think, I’m fully capable of handling this on my own,” he says. “If you’re going to act like a git, you can go.”

I laugh again and lean over the side of the boat. “Oh, I would love to, Simon Snow. I really would. But unfortunately, it’s clear you need more help than you realize. You don’t even know what a shark’s eye _is_.”

“What?” he snaps.

I pick up one of the oranges and throw it to him. “Eat. You’re clearly not thinking straight because you’ve got an empty stomach.”

He continues scowling at me, but unpeels the orange. A lovely smell wafts around us, made more intense by the salty air.

He shoves a few pieces into his mouth, and it’s like his mood immediately improves. He holds a wedge out to me. “Want some?”

I wrinkle my nose. 

“Here, I’ve got other stuff too.” He rummages through a sack. “Roast beef sandwiches, scones — plain, couldn’t find any with fixings. Wish I had some with sour cherries, that’s my favorite . . .”

He blathers on, telling me about the food he eats on the pirate ship and the food he can only get on dry land, and despite myself, a smile creeps across my lips. I cover it with my mouth and pretend to glower.

When he’s finished eating, he picks up the knife and glances at me.

“So what did you say about that shark’s eye again?”

I point the tip of the knife down with a finger. “That I know something about it you don’t.”

“Clearly. Care to enlighten me?”

“Put that away first. You won’t be needing it.”

* * *

“No offense, mate, but I don’t see how this is productive at all.”

I perch on a shallow rock and slick my hair away from my face. “Your Captain told you to find a shark’s eye,” I say over my shoulder to Simon as he drags his boat up the sand. “But he didn’t specify what kind.”

I’ve brought him to a tide pool. The rocks form a wall of sorts that blocks out the more aggressive waves, but the tide still has control even in shallow pools like this one. It comes in and out, and gives and takes whatever it pleases. There’s a sandy seafloor, and cliffs and shelves for sea creatures to live in.

Snow is standing in the pool, his trousers rolled up to the middle of his legs. I’ve always wondered why humans bother wearing those garments over their bodies. Perhaps because their skin is so delicate.

Simon Snow doesn’t look delicate. He’s broad and sturdy, tawny and blue. He stands with his feet apart, like he’s bracing to catch the force of a wave. He’s familiar with the sea, but he doesn’t know everything. I wouldn’t expect a human like his captain to teach him the truths.

“What kind?” he repeats. “There are different kinds of shark eyes?”

“Yes, if you look close enough.”

His brows furrow, and his chin tilts down in confusion. 

“Here,” I say. “Look at this.”

I slip off the rock, and he wades through the water toward me. Together we study one of the shelves in the tide pool. The rock is slick, covered in algae and seaweed, deep green against brown. Scattered in the many grooves and crevices are tiny shells, all different colors and shapes.

I glance at him. “See anything?”

“Uh . . . just a whole lot of shells.” 

I pick up the ones I want him to see. They’re circular, shaped like the moon, and cream-colored, with pink and white insides. The colors circle together to a blue point in the middle. 

“Open your hand,” I say.

He does. I drop the shells into his palm. He looks at them, then me. I touch one of the shells, rolling it over so the top is exposed. His skin is very warm.

“See the shell’s shape, and how the coloring follows it, in a circle? And the center is narrow, and colored darker than the rest. It almost looks like the center of an eye, don’t you think?”

Snow is quiet for a moment, studying the shell. Then he gasps, a quiet intake of breath that makes my stomach do a strange flip. He looks at me, his eyes bright, and a ridiculous grin on his face.

“Baz,” he breathes. “This shell is an eye!”

I can’t help but smile back. “A shark eye.”

“I never knew such a thing existed.” He picks up the shell between his fingers. “Think there are more of them?”

“As many as your Captain could want, I imagine.”

We spend some time scavenging for shells, digging up other things along the way. Snow discovers a collection of sea glass that he raves about. It is rather pretty, I suppose. I’ve never really taken the time to stop and admire it before. Snow thinks it’s amazing. He thinks it’s all amazing.

“I can’t believe I’ve never explored a tide pool before,” he says. “I mean, I’ve spent years at sea, living on the ship. But I can’t remember the last time I went to the beach.”

I lie down on the sand beside him, shuffling my way close to him with as much dignity as I can. I rarely lie on the sand, so it feels rather foreign to me. It’s scratchy and warm, and it sticks to my back and tail. 

“If only every mission could be like this,” he says softly. “Exploring the sea. Having fun.”

I push my hair away from my face, and realize with a jolt that it's dry. I don’t really spend much time out of the water. I’m not used to the feeling of dry hair. It tickles my cheeks and the nape of my neck. 

“You mean all pirate missions aren’t fun?” I ask.

Snow shrugs and turns his face towards me. I can see all of his freckles this close. “Sometimes they are. But most of the time the stakes are so high, I can only think about making it out alive. Grabbing the treasure and running, if I’m lucky.” 

“Well this turned out to be rather low-risk, didn’t it?” I say.

He chuckles and closes his eyes, but he doesn’t turn his face away. “Thankfully. I never wanted to hunt down a shark, anyway.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading! The final chapter will be up tomorrow! For those curious, here's a [shark's eye shell](https://www.pinterest.com/pin/542120873877148675/?nic_v1=1ax3FdLw9FDj46TifsjCyZUdE1CVFxalVTBR5YpT7XQr3RxMZNi%2BWoaDmA6bdsH9l%2B) :)


	3. Part III

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here is the finale! Thank you so much for checking out this fic - it's super self-indulgent, so thanks for indulging with me!

**SIMON**

We lie in the sand until the sun begins to dip over the horizon, casting the sky with an orange glow. I sit up and brush the sand out of my hair. 

I feel a strange tug in my chest as I realize that there’s nothing left to do except return to the ship. I got the shark eye. Mission accomplished. Yet I don’t want to go back. I wrack my brain for a reason to stay, to keep the adventure going, to keep this moment alive. For some reason, it feels like going back to the ship will be like breaking a spell.

I turn and look at Baz only to find he’s already watching me. The glow of the sunset warms his skin, making it look almost pearly. I hold his gaze for just a moment before looking away. My cheeks feel warm. Probably from a sunburn. 

His tail moves, fins flicking as the waves surge toward us and fall back. I thought his scales were gray the first time I saw them, but now they look iridescent. Like they somehow hold all the colors of the rainbow.

I only made it this far because of him. A pirate meeting a merman . . . there’s certainly magic tied to that.

It dawns on me that in terms of navigation, I’m completely fucked. I’ve got no idea where I am. It’s hard to believe I left the ship only a few days ago, and surely it’s sailed in a far different direction than the way I went.

That’s another catch to the mission. A good pirate never has to ask where to find his ship when he’s ready to return.

I get to my feet, wiping the sand from the back of my trousers.

“Well,” I say as I push the rowboat with my foot into the waves. “Looks like I’ve got a ship to track down.”

Baz props himself up on his elbows. “You’re going?”

I tap the tiny pouch in my pocket where I’ve stashed the sharks eye shells. “Got to get these back to the Captain somehow.”

In the blink of an eye, Baz is in the water and swimming alongside the boat. A generous wave pushes me out further, away from the tide pool. I look at him with a raised brow, but he doesn’t say anything. I’ve begun to suspect he’s got some sort of water power. 

“Thanks,” I say to him. “For everything.”

He glances at me. “Don’t thank me yet. We’ve still got to find your pirate ship. Unless you have some secret radar for that.”

I laugh. “You don’t have to help me with that. I’ll manage somehow.”

He scoffs. “Nonsense, Snow. You’ll probably run aground on some rocks again, and I doubt you’ll be able to find another merperson to help you then.”

I laugh again, feeling warm. “You’re probably right.”

He looks at me and smiles. 

We sail for so long the stars come out, and a brilliant half moon. I love being able to see the stars, like an endless pattern of lights in the sky. I crane my neck to look at them, and I feel a flick of water on my face.

I look over. Baz is floating on his back. Despite the darkness all around us, I can actually see him pretty well. His chest is a long stretch of silver in the water. His tail shimmers. 

“Pretty, isn’t it?” I say.

He flicks me again, and I laugh.

“Come in,” he says. “You can see the stars better like this.”

I lean over the side of the boat and dip my fingertips into the water. Amazingly, it doesn’t feel cold at all. I make sure to take the pouch of shark eye shells out of my trousers, then lift my shirt over my head. I can almost feel Baz’s eyes on me, and I try not to blush. I slide into the water as gracefully as I can manage, but I end up losing my balance and plunging in, sending the boat rocking. 

Baz laughs as I shake the hair out of my face. “Nicely done,” he says. Somehow he’s managed to corral the boat back to us.

I flip my feet up and tread water on my back. He was right of course — from this angle I can see a whole globe of stars. It’s like there’s no ending and no beginning to them. Like we’re swimming in them.

“Wow,” I breathe. “It feels like we could be in space.”

Baz’s tail fins flick up, and I realize just how long his tail actually is. It stretches several feet past my toes, swaying back and forth with ease. 

“We  _ are _ in space,” he replies. “The ocean has more space than anywhere on the planet.”

I stretch my arms out, and my hand grazes his shoulder. His skin is soft, and so close to me. 

“I mean outer space,” I say. “With the stars and the aliens.”

“There are aliens in the sea. Trust me.”

I glance at him. “What, like at the very bottom?”

“The very depths.” His eyes are gleaming. “Creatures unlike anything you can imagine.”

“Like sea monsters? Giant squid?”

He laughs. “You sound far too excited about this.”

I push myself into a vertical position and toss my wet hair away from my face. “It’s only every pirate's dream and worst nightmare to face a sea monster.”

His lips twitch. He’s still on his back, arms tucked behind his head like he’s lying on the sand. “Does a merman count as a sea monster?” he asks.

I scoff. “No.”

“Why not?”

“I’d hardly call you a monster, Baz.”

“Some might.”

“Why? Because you’re so vicious?” I tease.

He smirks. “I can be. When the time calls for it. How do you think I’ve survived on my own for this long?”

“Beats me, considering I had to cut you loose from that fishing wire.”

He rolls his eyes and flicks water into my face. “I would’ve managed to free myself eventually.”

I splash him back. “Those seagulls would’ve gotten you first.”

“And your boat would’ve been nothing but splinters.”

I shrug. “My point exactly. You’re not a monster, you’ve done nothing but help me.”

His expression softens a bit at that. “You helped me first. You could have thrown a net on me and — ” He shakes his head. “You could’ve hurt me. But you didn’t.”

“I wouldn’t,” I insist. “Never.”

“I know,” he murmurs, so quietly it’s almost lost to the wind. But I hear him, and smile.

The waves lap at my chin, and the burn in my arms and legs from treading water for so long is starting to catch up to me. But I don’t want to get out of the water yet. I don’t want to spoil this moment.

Baz’s expression shifts as he right himself and looks me up and down. “You’re getting tired,” he says. 

“No I’m not.”

“Yes you are. You’re floundering like a guppy learning to swim.”

Something pushes me forward, and I’m pressed chest to chest against Baz. I blink, my heart pounding in my ears. His lips tilt up, and he wraps his arms around my waist.

“Relax,” he murmurs. “I’ve got you.”

I give in and stop moving, letting my arms rest loosely around his shoulders. I can feel his tail right there against my legs, my feet brushing against his scales. Smooth, like the rest of him.

I’ve never been this close to a boy before. I’ve never been this close to  _ anyone  _ before. I can see each of his dark eyelashes; his lips, full and soft-looking.

“See?” I murmur. “You’re still helping me.”

He tilts his head slightly, and his nose brushes mine. 

“Your swimming was becoming a hazard. I don’t want to attract any unwelcome visitors.”

I laugh at that, but it comes out breathier than I intended. “Like a shark?” I ask.

“Exactly,” he says with a smile.

“I still sort of want to see one.”

He rolls his eyes. “Oh, shut up, Simon,” he says before his lips press against mine.

I close my eyes and sink into him. His lips are as soft as they look, and they move slowly over mine. He tastes like the sea, and a bit of something else. His arms wrap around me tighter. My fingers thread through his hair. 

We kiss until Baz declares that I’m getting cold (even though I’m not) and insists I get back in the boat. I reluctantly swing myself over the side and wrap myself up in a towel. I dry off my hair and slip my shirt back on, secretly a little grateful for the warmth. But I don’t want this moment to end. I don’t want to stop kissing Baz.

Thankfully, he hooks his elbows over the side of the boat and flashes me a smirk. My cheeks hurt from smiling. I lean forward and kiss him again. 

“I like your hair like this,” I murmur some time later. 

He quirks a brow. “Like what?”

I run my fingers through his black locks, caressing his cheeks. “Loose. Dry. Looks nice.”

His lips twitch, and I feel myself blushing.

Dawn is breaking when a pirate ship sails into view. 

I sigh at the sight of it. My chest feels funny. 

Baz doesn’t say anything as we drift closer to the ship. He presses his cheek against mine, his fingers stroking my hair and the back of my neck. 

“You should go,” I murmur into his ear.

He leans back and stares at me, his brow furrowed. “Why?”

“What if someone sees you? I don’t want to risk anything happening to you.”

He shakes his head and presses his lips to my cheek. “I don’t want to leave yet,” he confesses.

I sigh heavily and lean closer. “I don’t either,” I whisper back.

The Watford is like a shadow looming over us, reminding me of what I still need to do. It hurts more than I ever thought it would. I used to tell myself that the ship was my home. It was all I had. But now I realize the sea is more my home than the ship ever was. 

My heart pounds in my chest as I start to collect my things. I tuck the small pouch holding the shark eye shells safely in my pocket.

Baz blinks at me, those stormy eyes forlorn. I kiss him again, for the thousandth time tonight, but I can’t bring myself to pull away. Maybe that’s why this hurts so much. I know I’ll never see him again once I board the ship. This was a once in a lifetime encounter. A magic spell. And it’s about to be broken.

“I won’t ever forget you,” I tell him, my throat strangely tight. “I promise.”

Baz just looks at me. His gray eyes glisten, and then he closes them and bites his lower lip. I stroke the scales on his skin and nudge his cheek with my nose, breathing in the scent of him one last time.

“Simon,” he says gruffly. “There’s something I didn’t tell you before —”

His words are drowned by the blaring horn from aboard the Watford. We both cringe at the sound of it. The top deck of the ship is crawling with pirates as they go about the morning chores.

I turn to Baz. “You’ve got to go,” I urge. “Someone might see you.”

“I don’t care if they see me,” he replies firmly. “I just want —”

“Baz, please.” I squeeze his hands. “I can’t risk anything happening to you.” 

He looks so heartbroken that for a moment I consider taking back my words. I never want to leave him and that’s the truth. But I can’t risk exposing him to a world of humans that might not understand him like I do.

He kisses me so intensely I feel a little dizzy. I get one last glimpse of gray eyes and black hair, and then he’s gone. There are only a few ripples on the surface to prove he was ever there.

My eyes sting. I clench my jaw as a hollow feeling settles in my chest. Then I pick up the oars and row towards the ship.

* * *

“So, my boy, what’ve you got for me?”

I tip the pouch over and let the shells scatter across the Captain’s desk. They gleam in the orange lamp-light, lovely and cream colored. It’s almost painful to look at them.

The Captain pinches one between his fingertips and raises it to his eye. He studies it, face set in grim concentration. I watch him, but I don’t feel nervous. I don’t feel anything. I had to wait several hours to see him, so long that it’s practically sunset at this point. The crew buzzed around me, business as usual, but I couldn’t focus. All I could do was mope around the deck and stare down at the waves, searching for any sign of Baz.

Finally, the Captain looks at me and smiles. His thin mustache stretches across his upper lip. 

“This will make a fine specimen for a shark’s eye,” he says. “And you’ve brought plenty to choose from.”

“Several, Captain,” I reply numbly. “As many as you might need.”

“Tell me, Simon, how did you manage to find them?”

“Er . . .” I pause. “Just got lucky, I suppose, sir.”

He brushes the shells back into the pouch and tucks it into a desk drawer. I frown at that. Here I thought he’d be placing them under glass or using them for some barter exchange . . . 

“Luck is a funny thing, Simon,” he muses. “It reminds me of the reason why I chose you for this mission. I felt that you had a special quality about you that makes you . . . particularly trustworthy.”

“Er . . . thank you, Captain.”

“I chose you,” he carries on, “because I felt you had the skills necessary in order to do what must be done to find a shark’s eye. The shark’s eye  _ I _ was after, you see? Any fool can catch and kill the first shark they get their hands on, but  _ you _ went one step further.”

There’s a knock at the door. It’s the first mate, announcing that the crew is ready. The Captain sends him away with a nod, then rises to his feet.

“Come with me, Simon.”

He leads me out of his quarters and onto the main deck. The crew is bustling, shouting commands and moving in formation. I don’t get the chance to wonder what they’re doing; the Captain is on the move. 

He clambers up the wooden steps to the top deck, and I stride to keep up with him. 

“This is a very exciting moment, Simon,” he says over his shoulder. “You think you’re the lucky one, but we are about to see what luck lies in  _ my _ favor.”

The sun is setting, lighting the sky on fire. The crew has assembled large nets in groups, tying knots into the rigging. 

The Captain’s hand goes to his hip and clutches the hilt of his sword. He watches the commotion below intently, a familiar expression of determination set in his face.

“Captain,” I say slowly, my blood running cold. “What did you say you needed that shark’s eye for again?”

He turns to me, grinning. “To catch a mermaid.”

* * *

**BAZ**

It’s become an alarming trend how often I’ve found myself caught in some man-made appliance these past few days.

It’s my own fault. I should have swum far away, in the opposite direction of the pirate ship. But I couldn’t bring myself to do it. I circled the ship all day, hoping to catch any glimpse of Simon on board. 

The ache in my heart was so distracting that I didn’t notice the humans watching me, arranging themselves, preparing nets three times the size of me. I didn’t notice until it was too late.

Now I’m completely fucked.

I try to stay calm because I know the more I struggle, the more excited the idiot humans will get at the prospect of catching me. But the rope is so tight I feel like I’m being choked. It’s looped around my neck, pinching my fins and my arms down. It’s dragging me closer to the surface, closer to the ship. If I end up on that ship, I’m dead.

This is what I wanted to tell Simon before — I wanted to give him my wish. I know it puts me at risk, that there’s no guarantee he could have his wish and I could keep my life. But I thought maybe if I offered . . . if I  _ chose  _ to give it to him . . . maybe it could work. 

I wanted to give him my wish so he could . . . what? Wish to stay with me? Wish that we could be together somehow? And even if he did, would it mean I’d live through it? I’m delusional for thinking that. And delusional for assuming that would be what he would wish for.

But the truth is, he could wish for whatever he wanted. I’m so in love with him, I’d do anything to make him happy. Even if it meant I couldn’t be with him.

I wanted my wish to be for Simon. I choose him. But now it looks like I won’t have a choice at all.

I flinch as a rush of something grazes far too close to my neck, and look down just in time to see a blade disappearing in the depths. More and more shoot through the water around me. One nicks the back of my tail. The net digs into me and pulls.

I feel the water slip away around me and the cold bite of the wind on my face. I open my eyes, and at first all I can see is the red sky and large white clouds. My vision blinks into focus, and I realize those are the sails of the ship, and that I’m swinging back and forth in the air. 

Proper humiliation.

I hear cheers and leering, clapping and whistles. Most likely at my expense. It’s times like these I wish I had a set of jaws like a shark. 

Then, I hear a voice shout my name, and crane my neck to see. I only get a glimpse of him — Simon Snow’s blue eyes, wide with fear. He’s gone in a flash, and then something happens. There’s a roar of noise. The net holding me up gives out. 

I plunge back into the water, the net falling loose around me. I squirm out of it, then turn my face to the surface. I don’t know what’s happening now — I can’t see or hear anything on the ship. But I can’t leave yet. I can’t leave Simon.

I swim along the hull of the ship, far enough from the surface that I know I’m out of sight. It’s far too tempting to swim to the top, to do anything to get their attention away from Simon. I don’t know for certain if he’s in trouble . . . but knowing him, he likely is. 

I don’t know how long I’ve been waiting for — it could be hours, but also feels like minutes.

Then, a body breaks the surface. Simon Snow sinks down, his arms and legs extended, blood curling above him like smoke.

I gasp and dart towards him, grabbing him in an instant and clutching him to me. He only has minutes, maybe even seconds, before he needs oxygen. I swim as fast as I can, faster than maybe I ever have in my whole life. Away, away, away.

When I dare to surface, making sure his head rises first, I look and see the pirate ship is just a speck on the red horizon. It only provides some small relief. Simon still hasn’t opened his eyes, and his mouth is parted in a way that makes my stomach clench with fear. 

I cup the back of his head with my palm and drape his arms around my shoulders. I move as slowly and gently as I can, not taking my eyes off his face for more than a few seconds at a time.

It feels like an agonizingly long time before we make it to the mouth of the cave I brought him to just the other night. I drape him on the ledge, on his back, and drag myself up to lie beside him. His shirt is stained bright red, torn nearly in half.

“Simon,” I whisper, trying very hard not to crowd him. My tail fins curl below his feet. “Simon?”

He’s so pale, and his lips are slightly blue. His eye lashes flutter, and I watch with bated breath as he opens his eyes and blinks at me.

“Baz?” he croaks. “What —”

I shush him, lightly stroking his hair with my fingertips. “It’s okay, Simon. I’ve got you.”

He winces and shifts slightly, his hand fluttering across his stomach. His palm comes away red.

“Don’t touch it,” I tell him. “Don’t —”

“It was a plot,” he grits through clenched teeth. “The Captain . . . he used me to try to capture you. I didn’t know, I swear I didn’t know —”

I shush him again, grazing my fingertips across his collarbones. His skin feels all wrong; cold, when I know it should be warm. His breathing is heavy. 

“I know, Simon. I believe you. And I always knew your captain was a bastard.”

He swallows hard, staring me down. “Baz,” he breathes. “I’m so happy to see you.”

My chest feels tight. I bite my lower lip. “You didn’t think you could get rid of me that easily, did you?”

He tries to laugh, but it turns into a terrible cough, and his face pinches in pain. 

“Don’t laugh, you idiot,” I say in a wavering voice. My heart is beating very quickly in my chest. “Enough talking. Simon, I need you to make a wish.”

He squints at me, beads of moisture on his forehead. His head hasn’t touched the water in ages — that isn’t sea water, and it makes me nervous.

“Make a wish,” I say again, trying to keep my voice level. “Wish to get better, alright?”

“What — Baz, no!” He shakes his head. “Your magic. I won’t do it.”

“Snow,” I practically growl. “You have to.”

“That’s what the Captain wanted. A wish,” he pants. “But I know what it means, Baz, I know now . . . I won’t do that to you . . . I can’t.”

“And I can’t let you die!” I try to sound menacing, but my voice comes out broken. 

The bastard just shakes his head again, and actually tries to smile. “It’s alright, Baz. It’ll be okay.”

“No it won’t,” I hiss. My face is wet, my eyes are stinging, and my throat feels like it’s closing up. “I don’t want to have magic if it means I could’ve saved you! It means nothing to me . . . but  _ you _ mean . . . you’re my —”

His hands wrap around my biceps, and he somehow pulls me closer to him. 

“This is all I want,” he whispers. “This is all I wish for.”

Then he kisses me. I kiss him back, as softly as I can, even though I want to scream and sob. 

A breeze blows through the cave, ruffling my hair and whistling in my ears. It doesn’t feel cold, like most sea breezes do. It’s warm. Comfortable. And it smells faintly like citrus. 

I can’t bring myself to open my eyes when Simon’s mouth moves away from mine. I can’t bear the thought of looking at him but knowing he’s no longer there. I press my palms to my eyes, fighting the tears threatening to spill over, when he says, “Baz. Look.”

I wrench my hands away from my face and blink. Simon Snow is smiling at me. And he looks normal. Healthy. His blue eyes are bright, and his bronze curls are dry, and his skin is tawny and warm and — 

I give a small gasp as I look down. There’s another tail next to mine. A beautiful, bright blue, slender tail that starts right at the base of Simon’s hips.

I look back at his face, and his bewilderment matches mine. He laughs, his eyes wide with excitement, as he sits back on his hands and raises his tail — his fucking  _ tail  _ — in the air and waves it back and forth.

“Baz!” He exclaims. “Look!”

I feel a laugh bubbling in my chest, and it’s probably the product of wanting to cry just moments before. I can’t control it; laughter spills out of me, and Simon is laughing too. He wraps his arms around me and kisses me, which shuts us both up rather quickly. 

I kiss him so hard I’m practically seeing stars. He takes my hand and places it on his tail.

“Can you believe this?” he says breathlessly. “I’ve got a tail, Baz!”

“I don’t . . . I don’t understand what happened,” I admit. “You didn’t . . . you didn’t wish for anything.”

He flashes me a crooked grin that makes my limbs feel like a jellyfish. “Well . . . I suppose I kind of did. When I kissed you . . . I told you that’s what I wanted.”

My cheeks feel warm — I must’ve gotten burnt somehow — and they ache from smiling. 

“Oh,” is all I can manage to say. 

He nudges me with his shoulder. “Guess it worked, then.”

I kiss him again, wrapping my arms around him tighter, my hand sliding up his tail to rest right where scales meet skin. 

“You’re not upset, are you?” I ask. “About . . . losing your legs?”

“It’s not a loss,” he replies. “The sea is my home. Always has been.” He bumps his nose into mine. “You have to show me around.”

I feel giddy at the thought. “Okay,” I whisper before stealing another kiss.

We lie there together, arms and fins entwined, until the sun rises. Simon declares he’s hungry, so I take him out to show him my favorite spot. The waves wink under the sun, looking a lot like stars. 

“Hey,” he says to me as we swim. “What do you think the odds of spotting a shark are?”

“Slim to none,” I reply. “Considering there aren’t any sharks for miles on this coast.”

“Wait a second,” Simon says, stopping in his tracks. I turn and look at him, a smug grin spread across my face as I watch him connect the dots. “You mean to tell me that this whole time there weren’t any bloody sharks around here?”

I shrug as innocently as I can. He lunges for me and wrestles my arms behind my back.

“I would’ve told you eventually,” I say through my laughter. “You just seemed so convinced, it would have been cruel to say anything otherwise.”

He huffs, but he’s smiling. One of his hands rests on my lower back, the other sliding up my neck. “Well, you’ll just have to make it up to me somehow.”

I grin and lean in. “I intend to.”


End file.
